Neil Hopcroft

Theres something depressingly cyclical about the kinds of arguments you have at this time of day:
(I’ve pre-watershedded the language a little, add your own colour if you feel it necessary)
Her: I can’t believe you asked anuver girl for er number, why’d’you ask er for er number?
Him: She was a policewoman, I was taking the micky

Being that one of the few emotions I understand is anger, this is something that gets to me, I find it especially difficult to sleep through.

All has gone quiet now, but I’ve ended up in this loop where I’m thinking “if someone NT can’t tell the difference between a joking around and something their girlfriend would be deeply upset and worried by, I don’t really stand a chance”.

And this is one of the big problems I have with relationships…nearly the only emotion I get from them is anger, and that anger is normally directed at me for not understanding the thing they’re upset about. Hearing this from the outside just reinforces that feeling.

Now I’m going to make hot chocolate and try sleeping again.

It started with the wearable keyboard…

…but I was distracted enough to go searching the site, whereupon I found what I think is a USB tail.

but that’s not ridiculous enough, so I found a Bluetoothbrush

I’m pondering the possibility of a housewarming party here in Leatherhead – having completely failed to get around to having one in Cambridge….if you can see this you’re welcome to come along, but first I would like to know who is about when.

Back online again now. And I’ve eaten too much cheese over the last few days.

These two facts are not related in any way.

Note to self. Matthew Herbert “had an apple pie baked in the foreign office, flew it to a US civil war battleground and got a former cia agent to shoot it”.

There’s something about nosebleeds in the bath that makes them seem more dramatic. A little red goes a long way.

The car survived. It ticked 130k on the way too, nearly time for an msb party for it. Assuming it lasts another thousand that is. Anyone recommend a mechanic in surrey?

Now i’m surrounded by boxes, waiting for me to have the time to figure out what to do with their contents.

Any strong people out there? I’m going to need a hand with this washing machine sometime.

In keeping with my time in Cambridge I’m about to sit down to a last meal as a resident, its one of those ‘what have i got left in the fridge?’ meals…cherry and brie rolls, the cheddar is looking a little more ‘organic’ than when I put it in there.

Its times like this I wish I didn’t have to make decisions about what to leave behind…but that would involve being organised and I’m not sure thats really me, is it? I’ve got a pile of must have, one of nice to have and one of in-the-bin, only the bin is full, so it’ll have to go near the bin.

Goodbye Cambridge.
(with a dose of hoping my suspension doesn’t give out on the journey south)

…and so began my visit to the fair – with the bus driver taking an accidental detour to drop me off at the gate, which was nice but a little unnerving for the other passengers.

The fair itself hadn’t really gotten into swing yet, there were lots of opportunities for fun but nobody taking them. I’m not a big fan of fairground rides, or indeed theme park rides, not because I dislike them, rather they seem like a lot of waiting around for not much in the way of entertainment.

There are two parts to the fair, they seem to sit rather at odds with each other, theres a small and very sedate flea market which seems to be mainly travelling thing-makers selling their things alongside a large funfair, the boundary between the two if very distinct.

One of the stalls in the flea market was selling videos of “Bear knuckle fighting” – for some reason I’d always assumed it was the knuckles that were bare, rather than they were owned by a bear, but these guys are professionals and I’m not.

“Din-n she yoos-a be a bid chavvy?” comes the question from one of the bright orange girls walking in front of me, the one in white hot-pants, a perfect estuary accent with a little slur for added measure. Clearly I’m no judge of subcultures either.

By the time I’d done a round of both halves the funfair was starting to liven up a little – some of the finest characters England has to offer…this is a far more earthy affair than Strawberry Fair, where everyone is living a dream for the day, this is about thrills now, instant gratification, and somehow they’re not quite enough.

As I was leaving there was a little group of policemen walking along licking ice creams, its not something that should surprise me but somehow it did.

And then I got driven home by the oracle from the Matrix – she was pretending to be a bus driver but I can see through that disguise.

Address:      9 St Johns Road, Leatherhead, Surrey, KT22 8SE
Home phone:   +44 1372 378418, though mobile number is generally better. 
Mobile phone: +44 7970 712888
PM Mobile:    +44 7725 708462
Skype:        neilhopcroft
SkypeIn:      +44 20 81332634
Voip phone:   +44 20 70435953 
SIP:          sip:2015650@SIP.Gradwell.net
Email:        neil-lj@hopcroft.org.uk

Directions:

From M25 junction 9, follow signs to Leatherhead Town Centre, after two or three roundabouts (depending which way you arrived on the M25) you enter a 30mph residential area, about a quarter mile down there is a sign for a hospital, that sign points along my road. My house is just under half way along the road on the left.